


Here's To Us

by mrs_d



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America Sam Wilson, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic, Edging, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), SamSteve Gift Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 23:38:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9294713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: The rewards are always well worth the wait.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [capfalc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capfalc/gifts).



> A gift for the lovely and talented [Capfalc](http://http://capfalc.tumblr.com/). I tried to include many of the tropes and prompts you asked for, hope you like it!!!
> 
> Special thanks to chasm-side and Hekkenfeldt for beta and encouragement.

Sam wasn’t sure what time it was when he got home. His phone, God rest its soul, had been the only casualty of today’s fight. But he noticed as he pulled into the drive that there were no lights on in any of the windows, which meant that Steve was in bed, which meant that it was late. Possibly very late, depending on how long he’d stayed up watching CNN’s footage of the Avengers shooting aliens all over Jersey City.

Sam’s stomach gave a guilty twist as he hit the button clipped to the driver’s side visor, opening the garage door with a loud whir and clatter. In a world with state-of-the-art technology like his wings, you’d think someone could invent a quiet garage door, he thought, wincing as he pressed the button again to close it behind him. He waited for the sound to subside before he headed into the house as stealthily as he could, praying as he set his gear down in the laundry room that Steve had been asleep long enough that a little more noise wouldn’t wake him.

He could have stayed in Midtown tonight with the others — it might have been easier, all things considered, especially since he was going to have to go back some time tomorrow afternoon to help in the clean-up — but frankly, he didn’t want to. Sam had wanted to come home; he’d been on the road for three days already when the call came about the aliens in Jersey. He knew Steve would be worried sick without him, but it was more than that; for some reason, he just knew in his gut that he had to get home tonight.

Even though tonight had already turned into tomorrow, according to the clock on the microwave.

In the centre of the kitchen table, he noticed four candles grouped together, tall tapers that had never been lit. Sam frowned, trying to remember if those had been there when he left a few days ago. He opened the fridge to get a drink of cold water and saw in the light that they were red and blue, stuck into short glass holders, practical but stylish.

Very Steve, he thought with half a grin. He wondered where Steve had found them, what sort of shopping he’d been doing while Sam was off fighting bad guys. Or— actually, they looked kind of familiar, he realized, leaving the fridge door open as he wandered over to pick one up. Maybe they’d been in the basement somewhere, in the box of decor from their—

Oh no.

Today was their wedding anniversary.

He checked the time again and had to correct himself. Yesterday had been their wedding anniversary.

“Shit,” Sam whispered, the word coming out like a long exhalation.

He set the candle down and returned to the fridge, where, sure enough, there was an unopened bottle of champagne and several dishes covered in foil. Sam lifted one edge and swore again. It was his favorite, seafood casserole. Sam was willing to bet that it was his mother’s recipe, too. She’d probably walked Steve through it on Skype that afternoon, before the news hit about the alien attack, when it had still seemed like Sam would be home in time for dinner.

“Stupid aliens,” he muttered.

He snuck one shrimp out of the casserole and popped it into his mouth. Even cold, it was fantastic; definitely Mom’s recipe, he thought, closing his eyes in bliss. He was tempted to grab a plate right then and there, but he also liked being married, and eating an anniversary dinner without his husband was probably grounds for divorce. 

With a yawn, he closed the fridge and headed to the bedroom. There, he found Steve and Moose, their giant Alaskan Malamute, taking up the entire king-sized bed. Sam stifled a laugh at the sight of them: Steve’s hair was a blonde puff, barely distinguishable from the dog’s white fur, and Moose’s paws twitched in a dream. It took a lot to wear that dog out; Sam wondered how far they’d hiked today to sleep this well tonight. 

He didn’t dare touch either of them — Moose because he’d make a fuss and wake Steve, and Steve because sometimes he came up swinging if something surprised him in his sleep — so he crept past the bed and into the attached bathroom, where he met a very tired-looking man with dried alien gunk in his hair.

“You look great,” he whispered at his reflection, and he started the shower.

The gunk was almost gone when Steve came into the bathroom. The sound of the door startled Sam a little, but he twitched aside the curtain to find Steve pulling his tank top off over his head.

“Hey,” he called softly.

“Hey, Cap,” Steve drawled, slow and sleepy. “Mind if I join you in there?”

“Be my guest,” Sam replied. He scratched at his scalp, his fingers finally coming away clean. “But you have to tell me if I missed a spot.”

“Don’t worry,” Steve assured him, sounding more awake as he stepped into the tub behind him. “I’ll make sure you pass inspection.”

Steve’s hands, warm and soft, landed on Sam’s hips. Sam tried to turn, but Steve made a quiet noise of protest, so he stayed still and let Steve nudge him forward. He braced himself against the wall, and then Steve’s fingers flowed up his back, finding every single tight muscle and working it until the tension released, bit by bit. All the weight that Sam had been carrying — the wings, the shield — had dissipated within minutes, and this, _this_ was why he’d needed to come home tonight. 

“God, that feels good,” Sam murmured, rolling his head and leaning back to kiss Steve’s cheek. “How do you do that?”

Steve chuckled, the sound reverberating into Sam’s back where they were pressed together. “Saw you on TV. You’re hunching your shoulders too much when you throw.”

Sam groaned. “Still?”

“Still.” Steve gently pushed him away, his fingers starting to work their magic again. “Takes a while to get used to it. We’ll practice some more.”

Sam nodded, then hung his head, letting the water run in streams down his cheeks and nose. Now that Steve had mentioned it, he could feel some stiffness in his upper back. He made a conscious effort to let his shoulders droop as he relaxed.

After long minutes of nothing but touch, Steve added, “Kids did good.”

“Kids did very good,” Sam agreed, opening his eyes. “No casualties. Got everybody out of danger before they could panic and cause a riot.”

“Good,” said Steve.

It was only one syllable, but Sam could hear the longing and regret in it. He knew Steve wanted to be out there, fighting alongside the Avengers, training the newbies, same as he used to, but one of the conditions of his return to the United States was that he lay down the shield, and he’d fought like hell for Sam to be the one to pick it up. _You’re the only one worthy_ , he’d said, and some days that trust weighed more heavily on Sam’s shoulders than any weapon.

“I’m sorry,” Sam found himself saying, and he turned around, met Steve’s puzzled eyes.

“For what?”

“Missing dinner,” he said, because that was easier than getting into all the rest. “I know it’s late, but happy anniversary.”

Steve smiled. “Happy anniversary.”

He stepped forward, his lips finding Sam’s in a sweet kiss that tasted faintly of mouthwash. Steve’s hands were on him again, holding him tight as his tongue slipped between Sam’s lips. Sam sighed into it, reminded of all the other reasons he loved coming home.  

But still, he was distracted, thinking of the candles in the kitchen and the food in the fridge. He eased back, drew in some air.

“So, you’re not mad?” he asked.

Steve looked him in the eye and shook his head. “I’m not mad. Can’t be — not like I’ve never been late.”

Sam hummed in agreement. “Better late than never, I guess.” 

Steve nodded, and a moment later, Sam felt the air between them start to buzz when Steve’s gaze dropped to his mouth. Sam licked his lips, watching Steve watch the motion with hungry eyes. He slid his arms around Steve, grabbing his ass hard the way he knew Steve liked it, and Steve pushed forward again, ducking his head to mouth at Sam’s collarbone.

“I am so glad,” Steve said, interrupting himself with kisses up Sam’s neck, “that you’re home.”

“Me, too,” Sam tried to say, but it came out a little muffled.

Steve’s lips kept moving, brushing through Sam’s three-day beard and tracing his jaw all the way to his earlobe. He sucked it into his mouth and bit down — Sam jumped, his hardening cock twitched, and a shiver ran through him, despite the steam of the hot water all around him.

“Can I give you your present now?” Steve breathed into his ear.

The words set off a familiar jolt of electricity. Sam felt the pressure of every moment that he’d been away, and he wanted it — Steve’s touch, Steve’s mouth, Steve’s everything — he just _wanted_.

“Yes, please,” he said, his voice coming out rough.

Steve closed the tiny gap between them, pressing Sam hard against the tile, the spray of the shower turning to mist against Steve’s broad shoulders. Sam had a moment of confusion — they were doing this here? — before the water switched off, and Steve stepped back. He was fully erect now, looking like he’d walked out of Sam’s every fantasy, with rivulets of water running down his body and dripping from the tip of his cock.

“Goddamn,” Sam muttered, dragging his gaze up, only to find that hungry expression in Steve’s eyes again. “Take me to bed? Now? Please?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied with a jerky nod.

He yanked the curtain aside and stepped out, grabbing two towels from the shelf and tossing one in Sam’s direction. Sam made it through about three seconds of drying himself before his hands were on Steve again, his damp palms sticking to Steve’s flushed skin, and the pressure of Steve’s cock branding his hip. He found some relief in Steve’s lips, which were cool against his like mountain air, leaving Sam light-headed and spinning.

They weaved their way into the bedroom, tripping once over Steve’s discarded towel. Sam’s bare ass hit the mattress at the same time his hand landed on something furry. He twisted, and Moose, all hundred-and-ten pounds of him, was right there, trying to lick Sam’s face, pushing his snout into Sam’s shoulder like a giant cat, desperate for attention.

Sam laughed and fought him off, scratching Moose behind the ears. “Hey, buddy,” he said. “I missed you, too, but Steve and I kinda need some alone time right now, okay?”

“Because that’ll work,” Steve scoffed and pulled away. “Out,” he said firmly, pointing.

Moose went at once. Steve closed the door behind him.

“Well, look at you, Alpha,” Sam commented, and Steve chuckled, embarrassed.

“We’ve been training,” he explained with half a shrug. “Now, don’t we have better things to do than talk about the dog?”

Sam’s focus rushed back, and with it came a surge of lust. He managed a nod, and Steve nudged him back until he was resting on his elbows. Steve climbed up, one knee on either side of Sam’s thighs and ducked his head to give him another one of those mind-blowing kisses. Sam found himself lifting his hips, the tip of his cock brushing Steve’s skin, but Steve pinned his wrists and held him down, denying him the touch that he craved.

“No, no, no,” Steve murmured into his mouth. “Let me do this right.”

“Steve,” Sam begged, not even sure what he was asking for. The more he tried to wriggle free, the harder Steve held on, and it was perfect, the way he was grinding down just enough to set off sparks along his skin.

“What do you want, baby?” Steve asked, pulling back to look him in the eye. “Usual game?”

Sam’s throat went dry at the suggestion. His first impulse was to say no; after four days away from home, part of him just wanted to get it over with — rub against each other, fast and messy, go off like a shot right here and now. But the more reasonable part of his brain reminded him that their usual game was a good game, and that the rewards were always well worth the wait.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Okay,” Steve agreed, businesslike. His hands slid up and down Sam’s sides, raising goosebumps on his skin. “What color means you’re done?”

“Red,” said Sam automatically.

“And what’s your color now?”

Sam thought about it for a second, biting his bottom lip and focusing on the small pain to settle himself down. “Getting back to green.”

“Good, then you can wait a little longer,” Steve replied, his tone suddenly disinterested.

He dropped a light kiss on Sam’s lips and walked away, his cock bobbing with every step as he went into the bathroom and hung up their towels. Sam knew what Steve was doing, and damned if it wasn’t working. Steve was sexiest when he was in charge like this; as soon as Steve said _no_ , Sam’s body screamed _yes_.

“What about you?” Sam called, in part to distract himself from the temptation to jerk off right then and there.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Steve answered, switching off the bathroom light and coming back into the room. Sam sat up.

“For example....” Steve added. He stopped in front of Sam, positioning his dick at Sam’s eye level, and quirked an eyebrow.

Sam’s mouth watered, and he grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He leaned forward, burying his face in the tufts of blond hair between Steve’s legs, and breathed deep, inhaling the soft smell of soap. Steve ran his fingers down the back of Sam’s neck, his blunt nails setting off another cascade of shivers, and Sam opened his mouth, teased at the base of Steve’s cock with the flat of his tongue.

“Oh,” Steve sighed, his thighs twitching. “I missed you, Sam.”

Sam stifled a grin and kept licking, tracing the veins that were thrumming with Steve’s pulse, and circling the tip before ducking in deeper to lap at Steve’s balls. Finally, he pulled Steve’s cock into his mouth, a little at a time, and reached back to squeeze his ass.

“Fuck,” Steve whispered.

Sam hollowed his cheeks and started to suck in earnest, slow and steady. He closed his eyes to let himself focus on his other senses — the salty taste of Steve’s skin, the firm feel of Steve’s ass under his hands, the tiny sounds that Steve was making above him — so it came as a complete surprise when he felt Steve’s finger rubbing the slit of his dick as he swallowed down the pre-come from Steve’s.

Sam gasped and pulled back, but he didn’t get far. One of Steve’s hands was steady at the back of his head, and Steve’s eyes were locked on his.

“Keep going,” he instructed, his finger still stroking the sensitive place just under the head of Sam’s cock. “But don’t come. Not even when I do.”

 _Christ._ Sam swallowed hard, Steve’s taste sticking in his throat.

“Okay?” Steve said, and it was more like an order than a question.

Sam nodded. That was Steve, he said to himself, large and in charge. He nearly giggled at the thought — sue him, his brain wasn’t getting much blood — before he took Steve back into his mouth and got back to it, sucking and teasing, pulling off to rub the wet tip against his cheek in a pattern that matched what Steve’s fingers were doing to him.

It was sloppy, both of them desperate to hit each other’s buttons; when Steve’s finger sped up, Sam did the same with his tongue, inhaling sharply through his nose while Steve gasped at the change as well. He felt Steve wipe some wetness from his chin, and he whined when Steve’s slick hand returned to stroke his cock, slow and hard and _perfect_ , oh, God, so perfect. Sam squirmed against the mattress, the stop-word behind his lips — he was going to come, he couldn’t not, with Steve’s cock heavy on his tongue, and with the way he was touching—

Steve took all touch away.

Sam exhaled gratefully, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. Instead, he slowed his pace and focused on his breathing, forcing himself to settle down. He pulled back every few breaths, stretching his fingers and toes, rolling his wrists — anything to distract him from the edge he’d nearly fallen off.

When he could finally think straight again, he brought his hands back up to Steve’s ass and nudged it forward, until Steve was as deep as possible. Then he pulled back, before pushing Steve’s cock inside again. Steve got with the program and helped Sam out for a few thrusts before he stopped.

“Sam,” Steve whispered, and Sam recognized the warning there. “You sure?”

“Uh huh,” Sam said, as best he could with his mouth so full. He felt Steve shiver at the vibration.

“Jesus,” Steve swore finally. “Okay.”

He gripped the back of Sam’s head again and started rocking his hips, dragging his cock in and out of Sam’s throat. Sam swallowed around him, and Steve made a gorgeous little sound that Sam never got tired of hearing. Steve was getting close, he could tell, and his own dick throbbed in sympathy.

He held still and let Steve pick up the pace. Steve was muttering nonsense now, broken sentences mostly made up of _Sam_ and _fuck_ and _yes_. He hissed through his teeth the next time Sam swallowed, and, with a strangled cry, Steve came, flooding Sam’s mouth with his familiar taste, fever-hot and thick on his tongue.

Sam swallowed everything Steve had to give him, sucking more and more gently as he started to soften, running the tips of his fingers up Steve’s stomach to brush his nipples, which were always hard and sensitive right afterwards. Sam let his touch linger, marveling at the tiny twitches that periodically raced under Steve’s skin, until Steve groaned quietly and eased himself away.

He sank to his knees and leaned forward, kissing Sam slow and wet and gentle — Sam knew Steve liked to taste himself in his mouth. Sam ran his hands through Steve’s damp hair in return, brushing it back from his sweaty forehead. Steve hummed contentedly before he pulled away and looked down into Sam’s lap, then back into his eyes. He licked his over-pink lips in what Sam would definitely call a slutty gesture, and Sam felt a renewed wave of heat and arousal wash over him, just from watching.

“Your turn,” Steve murmured finally, ducking his head and starting to lay soft kisses along Sam’s inner thigh. “I’m not gonna make you wait any longer, Sam.”

Sam nodded, even though he knew it was a lie — Steve would always make him wait just a little bit longer — and breathed out a shaky breath. Steve bent forward, slowly licked the tip of Sam’s cock, and Sam had to close his eyes against the rush of sensation triggered by that tiny touch.

“Oh, Je- _sus_ ,” Sam said, his voice breaking partway through.

“You can just call me Steve,” Steve suggested, ever the smug ass.

Sam rolled his eyes — no one had told Steve that it’d been decades since that joke was funny — but all the air disappeared from his lungs before he could deliver a snappy comeback, because Steve bent down and opened wide, guiding Sam’s cock inside and rubbing the tip against the roof of his mouth. A moan clawed its way out of Sam’s throat at the touch of that ridged texture, and _dammit_ , he couldn’t take another minute of this. Not when his balls were this tight, not when he could feel every single goosebump on his exposed skin, not when Steve was holding his hips just tight enough to remind him not to move.

But he needed to move, he _needed_ — “Yellow, yellow,” he whispered desperately.

Steve stopped teasing immediately, wrapping one hand around the base of Sam’s cock and moving it in hard, slow strokes that turned Sam’s body into a long, tight bowstring of want. Sam opened his eyes when he felt Steve exhale through his nose, and, yeah, Steve was really hitting his stride now, sucking on Sam’s dick like it was candy, his face relaxed and blissful as he took Sam deep, all the way into that sweet, yielding heat.

Sam let his head fell back, surrendering to the inevitable, drunk on the moment. His heart was hammering just under his skin, and he heard himself babbling, giving encouragement that Steve obviously didn’t need. Every time Steve’s free hand touched him — brushing his thigh, squeezing his hip, tweaking his nipple — it was a goddamned revelation.  

And then Steve twisted his grip slightly and moaned into Sam’s skin, and Sam was gone, the rush overtaking him all at once, and fuck— _fuck_ , he was coming, coming like he’d never stop, four days and an hour’s worth of waiting culminating in this moment of bone-melting pleasure.

When he came back to himself, Steve was nuzzling his softening cock, licking it like he couldn’t help it, like it was still irresistible to him. Sam brushed Steve’s hair away from his face, touched his lips, then sighed and stretched out on his back. His toes were tingling, and he swore he could feel each pore of his skin as it came into contact with the bed.

“Steve,” he managed to say after a moment. “Goddamn.”

Steve laughed softly and crawled up, kissing his way up Sam's body. Now Sam was the one chasing his own taste, licking into Steve’s mouth slow and languid, until Steve sighed and rolled away, curling into Sam’s side and tucking himself up under his arm. Sam smiled faintly — it was adorable the way Steve cuddled like he was a small guy, or like he was their massive dog who thought he belonged in everyone’s lap.

Speaking of which, Moose was huffing at the base of the bedroom door and making that string of sounds that Steve referred to as _talking_.

“Just a minute,” Steve called in a low voice, like he didn’t have the energy to be any louder.

Sam, feeling strangely wired now, kissed the top of Steve’s head and wriggled out of his grasp. “I’ll get him,” he said softly. “You just stay put, keep the bed warm.”

Steve made a sleepy little sound that Sam decided to take as assent, and Sam headed over to the dresser to dig out some clean pyjamas.

He tripped over Moose when he opened the door — the guy practically took up the entire hallway after all — but he managed to lead him away from the bedroom and down to the back door.

“Go on, out to pee,” he encouraged, but the dog was busy rooting through his chest of toys, tossing some quite far in an effort to get to the one he wanted.

“You gonna clean that up?” Sam asked, wondering if Steve’s dog training abilities extended far enough to teach Moose to pick up after himself.

Moose emerged from his toy box with a blue stuffed bird that squeaked between his jaws. He sat and gave Sam an incredibly hopeful look, his tail thumping against the hardwood floor. Sam sighed and gave in, pulling on a pair of rubber boots and opening the door. Moose barrelled outside, talking through the bird in his mouth, and pranced around the back yard.

“All right, we’ll play, but not too long. It’s four in the morning, you know,” Sam told him, but he had a feeling that the finer points of timekeeping were lost on Moose.

He tugged the bird out of Moose’s mouth and threw it almost as far as the fence. Moose bounded after it and ran circles around Sam before he let Sam take it back. They played this dancing variation on fetch for twenty minutes, until Moose did his business, and Sam headed back to the house.

“Come on, now, time for bed,” Sam called, but even as he said it, his stomach growled. “Or maybe a snack and then bed,” he amended.

Moose knew that word — he raced to his bowl as soon as Sam opened the door, but Sam hardly noticed. He was distracted by a crash in the kitchen.

“Steve?” he called hesitantly. “Is that you?”

“Sorry, yeah,” Steve replied. “I’m just— uh, I need a minute. Feed the dog, would you?”

“Um... okay,” Sam said slowly, and headed back to where Moose was waiting. He tossed a handful of kibble into his bowl, and when Moose gave him the hopeful eyes again, he added a couple of treats.

“But only because I was gone so long,” he said, patting Moose’s head as he started chomping.

When he came into the kitchen there were two plates of casserole on the table, along with a basket of biscuits. The red and blue candles flickered, their light reflecting in two glasses and the bottle of champagne.

“What’s all this?” Sam asked in wonder.

“Our anniversary dinner,” Steve answered, and then he turned to look at the clock. “Or, possibly anniversary breakfast.”

Sam laughed. “If it’s dinner, then we kinda did date night backwards, but if it’s breakfast....”

“Well. Either way, we’re going back to bed after,” Steve finished for him. He pulled out Sam’s chair, very obviously checking him out from the corner of his eye.

“Oho,” Sam said, feigning surprise. “Not done with me yet, are you?”

Steve huffed out a little laugh as he reached for the bottle of champagne. It was hard to tell in the candlelight, but Steve’s cheeks were pink, which made Sam grin. Such a firecracker in the bedroom, he thought, but talk about sex in the kitchen, and the man still blushed. Sam loved that about him, loved everything about him. He slipped an arm around Steve’s waist, pulling him close enough to kiss his belly through his thin cotton t-shirt, and told him so.

“Love you, too,” Steve said, his lips brushing the top of Sam’s head.

Steve opened the wine with a loud pop that made both of them jump, even though they were expecting it, and had Moose running into the kitchen. Sam laughed and scratched him behind the ears until he settled and flopped down on the floor, shaking the table a little when he bumped into one of the legs.

Once he’d poured the champagne and taken his seat, Steve handed Sam a glass full of bubbles and raised his own in a toast.

“To never being done with each other,” he said with Sam’s favorite lopsided grin.

Sam clinked glasses with him. “Never.”


End file.
